


stay in your arms (without falling to your feet)

by bleucheese



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue, Drama, M/M, Romance, TMOE verse, point divergence from starbrigid's draco malfoy and the talon wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleucheese/pseuds/bleucheese
Summary: Point divergence fromChapter 23 of starbrigid's Draco Malfoy and the Talon Brand.For prompt:Set in TMOE universe blue loop or red line (read: fic divergent) Theo / Draco.Suggested by one_kroCredit for Part 1 goes entirely to starbrigid!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Valentine's day 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Draco Malfoy and the Talon Brand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775571) by [starbrigid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbrigid/pseuds/starbrigid). 



> Part 1 is 99% starbrigid's work, edited slightly for the point divergence! Chapter 2 is original content :)
> 
> Huge thank you to The Last Psychiatrist for helping me write myself out of this hole! Thank you to [Noezilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelliza) for betaing!

He was held up on his way back to the Slytherin common room, though, by the presence of someone waiting for him on the bottom of the steps. "Theo?" Draco frowned, startled at the sight of Theo in his Kingsnakes hoodie and black jeans with his dirty blond hair all mussed, and pale face flushed from alcohol, an open bottle of what looked to be sake in hand.

"Grindelwald," Theo laughed, swaying as he stood up. "Draco, I was- was going to wait for you, but it looked so good- here, I've saved this just for us..."

Draco might have laughed it off and gone back to join the others, until Theo pulled him over and held up the sake to show him. It was a large silver bottle, rounded and heavy at the bottom, with a dragon design stenciled in black over the body of it, and words over the katakana that read Kikokuryu Silver Dragon. "Can you deny," Theo laughed, unusually playful, "That this is sake meant for you, Astaroth?" and Draco laughed and followed him as he led to the doors to the Potions storerooms. "You can get in, right? And no one else. So we can have this all to ourselves."

It sounded like good reasoning to Draco, who had also discovered the usefulness of the storerooms as a good emergency place to be alone, albeit before with Harry. With Harry, though, he was terrified of Severus having some invisible alarm tripped and showing up any moment, whereas Severus had all but openly endorsed their Slytherin festivities. So he cast Sanguirenere, nowhere near drunk enough to mess that up, at least not yet, and conjured him and Theo green and silver cushions, and seats rather like Muggle bean bag chairs, along with bluebell flames above he happily tinted green with Colovaria. Then he slumped into his pouf beside Theo and took the sake, giving it a sniff. "Since when are you a sake person, Theo?"

"Since my father went on a sake kick recently," Theo laughed, and conjured them glasses. "He had this whole tasting just for me at Easter. See, it's best taken hot, especially if it's this refined... what are you doing?"

"Unguisubfio," Draco cast, and his lacquered black nails turned to tiny heated brands. He took his fingertips to the cask of sake and let them heat it, while Theo watched in fascination. "It's a Muggle thing, nail lacquer... Luna gave me some enchanted magic version for Christmas, see?"

"It's really warming them," Theo marveled, "I thought you just had blood all over your nails or some poison or something," and earned a dirty look from Draco. "No, that's really cool! And the nails look ho- well, they look nice on you..."

"Unguicotidio," Draco cast, and his nails went back to normal. "Here," he said, and offered the heated sake for Theo to serve them.

"This is a daiginjo... no, Draco, that's not like a dacquiri... see, my father's been trying to teach me how to drink since last summer, so we've been doing a world tour of fine liquors, and I know you always talked about wanting sake the most. I had him send some for me. He said only if we win, though. I can't wait to write and tell him!"

"Maybe don't tell him how much we drank, though?" Draco laughed, taking a drink of the apple-scented sake and finding it sweet but pleasantly acrid on his tongue, hot enough to warm his throat long in its aftermath.

"Oh, don't worry," Theo said, dark blue eyes bright, with the taste of fine sake muting the grassy smell of potions herbs behind them. "And I definitely won't tell him it was absinthe in the punch... though I'm not having symptoms of that. I think Montague got ripped off..."

Draco lost track of time all too easily there on the floor in the green-tinted shadows with Theo, with the comfort of someone he'd known since before he could walk, combined with Theo's naturally quiet, easygoing personality and his added graciousness while drunk, heaping compliments on Draco in every avenue he seemed able to think of. It was only when he began to wax poetic about Draco's hair and how well the style suited him that Draco experienced a flash of misgiving, though not enough to not finish yet another cup of the hot sake. He had enough of a buzz to make reality seem a step or two away or slowed, a pleasant haziness to the world that made his alarm as muted as anything else unpleasant in the world. He hadn't gotten quite this drunk since the blue loop, when he'd come home in the aftermath of the Wizengamot's judgment. That time couldn't seem further away, even as he and Theo drifted into reminiscing about times in the blue line.

"Do you remember the first time," Theo said absently, sometime after Draco checked his watch and saw it was past two am, "The first time I ever came to Malfoy Manor? We were, like, four or something, maybe less... I don't know if it's too early for you to remember, but I do..."

"Of course I do," Draco laughed, snuggling back where he was reclined nearly horizontal against all the Slytherin-colored pillows. "I think that's, like, literally my first memory..." It was either that, or Great-Aunt Walburga throwing a fit about some decoration in the hall she thought looked too Muggle-esque. "I was with my nurse, but I'd escaped her... Mother said I used to do that a lot, I kept getting those poor girls fired... and I heard screaming in the gardens..."

"Those albino peacocks of yours," Theo complained, and threw the neck of the sake bottle back, finding it completely emptied between them. "I'll never forget the way that one just went for me and pecked me all over. I was four... I didn't know what was going, but then you came waddling over screaming at the top of your lungs, and the peacock ran away..."

"Do you remember the first thing I ever said to you?" Draco smirked, and Theo nodded.

"'The peacocks only attack commoners'," Theo recited faithfully. "But that's not true, is it." He rolled up the left sleeve of Draco's hoodie, pressing his fingers in demonstration over a scar high on the left wrist, by now an imperceptible bit of slightly more pallor. It was from a pecking at maybe six or seven. Draco had complained about it for months after, as he recalled. He'd had a large lychee ice sundae that the peacock had found irresistible. He'd been more bitter at the time over the loss of the sundae, but he'd played up his injury for all the sympathy he could get.

"Maybe I'm a commoner then too," Draco retorted, and Theo shook his head, blue eyes practically glowing. The green tint to the flames made them look almost more like emeralds, like-

"Please," Theo said softly, "You're the most regal person I've ever met," and stroked his fingers over the exposed skin of Draco's arm. It gave Draco the creeps, since below the small faded white scar was the exact place where his Dark Mark had used to be. He hadn't seen the skull and snake there since the fake Moody had made him draw it on himself under Imperius, and for years then before that. But he could still imagine it there clear as day, especially since the feeling of Theo's hands on it hadn't been unfamiliar. Theo had hated the Mark, and tried not to look at it when they were together, but had been kind enough sometimes to put cream on it when it ached.

"Except for my, er, my godfather, 'course," Draco said uneasily, trying to pull his arm away, but the motion just let a very drunken Theo slide his fingers down to intertwine with Draco's.

"No," Theo said confidently. "You... it's you, Draco, you're..." The words seemed slow coming from his inebriated mind, if anything a bit more wasted than Draco. But once they came, Draco very much wished he was sober for this, that both of them were. "I've really liked playing Quidditch with you this year, Draco... I've liked us being close again. It's made me- I've had to think about a lot of things, things I didn't want to acknowledge about you- about myself-"

"Theo," Draco said warily, trying to keep his own drink-heavy head from lolling forward. He managed with effort to meet Theo's gaze, but with their faces a safe distance apart. He didn't have the heart to pull his hand from Theo's yet, as Theo's grip was so strong already he would have to do it violently. His chest was hurting already in anticipatory pain for Theo, if this was what he thought it was. What it might always have been, for Theo to want them to go drink alone- give Theo some liquid courage, and... "Why don't we wait to talk about anything important when we're not, like, um... plastered, and possibly on absinthe, possibly not- depends on the- the Montague's cheapness-"

"No, I, what it is... I need to tell you something," Theo said, taking both of Draco's hands, before looking into his face with a look Draco remembered, fascination without wanting it to be that: desire Theo could never fully admit to himself, even if he was about to try and admit it to Draco. It's you, it's your fault, he'd used to tell Draco. You're the only boy who makes me feel like this- the only person, if you weren't so beautiful, I could just be normal...

"There are three acceptable categories for discredit- for disjunction- disclosure," Draco finally finished, the longer word deserting him momentarily. "Disclosure. Only, ah, three. One, more observations on my glorious ineptitude- eptitude- aptitude, ah, as a captain and a Seeker. Two, the presence of more sake. Three- ah, I forgot three..."

"Draco..." Theo leaned forward, handsomeness accentuated by the unusual passion that animated it. "Grindelwald, I've tried to pretend... I've tried so hard, but I can't lie to myself anymore..." His lips came forward and pressed a clumsy kiss to Draco's forehead, then the side of his head, nuzzling into his hair not unlike Harry always did, although the alcohol on his breath was the strongest scent. Something wary squirmed in Draco's stomach. "Are you really gay like you've always said?"

"Yes," Draco answered, pulling his face back from Theo's, and their eyes met, tension as sharp as the moonstone dagger in the innermost pocket of Draco's hoodie, under the word Kingsnakes. He was suddenly aware exactly of where it was, along with his wand in the other pocket. "Yes, of course- of course I am. What would be the point, lying about that for so-"

"I don't know what I am," Theo said, eyes heavy as they bore into Draco, "But I do know... the way you make me feel- Draco, you're so beautiful. I can never get over how beautiful you are..."

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" Draco said, unexpected acid coming to his voice.

"No," Theo said, biting his lip. "Not unless you... Salazar, Draco, if you only knew... I'm trying to tell you- you have this effect on me. So much it throws everything I thought I knew into flux, Draco, it makes chaos out of order... it makes all my conviction into doubt... I'm not sure of anything anymore except for you. I know I like you. I like you so much-"

"Stop," Draco said, pulling his hand away and nearly upsetting the empty sake. "Theo, don't. Don't put yourself through this. This isn't going to end well for you-"

"I like you," Theo insisted, taking a deep breath, and then leaned forward and tried to kiss Draco.

He was slow enough for Draco to push him back, rather gently. Theo's eyes flew back open. He looked genuinely confused, like the possibility of rejection had never been in his calculations. "Draco, do you not like me back? You've always made all these jokes, ever since we were little- before we were at school... even back before second year, Blaise said he thought out of all of us for you, it would be me- and I'm the only one you ever flirt with-"

"Theo, I didn't mean..." Draco took Theo's hand to try and be empathic, but Theo took that as more heated than he meant it, taking Draco's hand and giving it a soft kiss, blue eyes brimming with feeling over it. Draco shivered at the unexpected wetness of Theo's sake-scented lips. "Theo, no, I'm sorry, I can't return your feelings. I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm really sorry."

Theo blinked rapidly, swaying slightly, he was still so drunk. He did not look heartbroken, just still perplexed at the turn the world had taken for him, in this Slytherin-colored light over bleak unpolished stone. "You don't... you're saying you don't like me back?" he said again. "Draco, I... I know it took me a while to figure out. But I know what I want now. I..." He licked his lips, eyes going darker. He leaned closer to Draco, something more devilish in his eyes. "You don't know the things I would do, if you wanted me to..."

No, Theo. I know exactly what you would do. "I'm sorry, Theo. No."

"Why?" Theo breathed, sitting back, the first hint of hurt hitting his hazy midnight eyes. "Is there... is there something wrong with me? Are you not actually attracted to me?"

"Theo, no, it's not that. There's nothing... nothing wrong with you." Draco rubbed a hand over his face as he felt the sake belatedly starting to kick in. He didn't feel anywhere close to throwing-up drunk, so he couldn't be that blitzed. But he felt hazy too, like the blue loop was threatening to encroach into the red line, the wants and disillusionments of the past trying to once again become his illusions. "It's not an issue with you, I promise. It's me, alright? Please don't take it personally. Boys, girls, whoever you want, Theo, you're gorgeous, you're rich and smart, you're athletic and talented and you're a really sweet person- you've got everything in the world going for you, so just try and move on, you'll have plenty of options-"

"Don't give me that," Theo sighed. "You really think anyone is as good as you? Anyone?" His hand slid over Draco's thigh. "I always thought it would be you and me if I could just be brave enough- and I'm telling you I love you-"

Draco let out a harsh bark of laughter at that. "You love me?" he echoed, a world of woundedness he had thought buried roaring back to life. What he would have given to hear those words come out of Theo's mouth in the blue loop. They could have changed so much. What he would have given to have Theo act like he even cared in sixth year, when he was so alone and Myrtle was still the only one who could talk to- Theo had just wanted to stick his prick in him and run-

Theo loved him now, was it? Was that just bullshit to get him in bed? Because what had changed? He hadn't been good enough for Theo before. And this was a Draco who didn't even want him! Was it playing Quidditch together, for fuck's sake? Was it that Draco was more powerful? That Theo couldn't have him as easily? Draco knew it was the sins of the blue loop in his head, not this younger Theo ignorant of Draco's real resentments, but he couldn't believe it still.

I love you. It took everything in Draco not to laugh at those earnest words.

"You love me," Draco echoed. "Right. Theo, I don't think you know what you-"

"What," Theo breathed, eyes almost black in the green light. He pushed the cask away from between them to lean over him, unusual vindictiveness leaping to his drunken face. "And Potter does? Harry Potter loves you?" When Draco was silent, Theo was the one to begin to laugh, a strikingly miserable sound. "I knew it already. I was almost sure. Now it's a certainty, you're with Potter, aren't you? I'm too late, that's the real problem, I waited too long to figure it out, and now you've talked yourself into thinking you'll have some happily-ever-after with that empty-headed-"

"This is between us," Draco snapped. "Don't talk about Harry."

Theo barked out a louder laugh, leaning back and pulling into himself. "Fine, then, let's talk about you, Draco.” Draco shifted on his cushion. Instinct called for him to back away, but there was nowhere to go, not in this tiny storeroom, and he tried not to show his apprehension. “You've let your Potter have a chance to confess, no doubt, with that vaunted Gryffindor sincerity. Kingsnakes or not, you don't see us Slytherins the way you do them- and, fair enough. You've spent nearly all your time with them."

"You're all my bloody friends-"

"You're always on edge." Theo's turned slightly away from Draco, now, face half in shadow. "The wand, the murders- it's turning you into someone else entirely. I can see it eating away at you, every day. Spending time with Gryffindors will always feel better to you. Everything good, heroic, light- and you're reading Grindelwald’s work and practicing blood rituals. You know you have a better chance of changing them than you have of changing yourself- you'll always straddle the line, a Slytherin playacting a Gryffindor-"

"I- that's not it-"

"So you're a Gryffindor?" asked Theo, eyes blazing. "You'd sacrifice in pursuit of an _ideal?_ No, that's not you. You'll betray and crawl and murder to protect your own. You're only against our fathers because the people you've chosen are Gryffindors. We may all be your friends, but at some point, you decided they were worth more."

Draco took another sip of the sake, trying to drown him out. The words rang uncomfortably true. He hadn't enough power or cunning to protect _anyone_ in the blue line, not even himself, but he'd wanted to, desperately. He reached into his pocket, pawing about the comforting bend of the talon wand. Could he have made more of a difference in the red line, had he focused on his blue line friends? Could he have helped them? Why had he chosen the Gryffindors over his childhood playmates, to the point where he'd barely reached out until being made Quidditch captain- he was far too drunk for this. He pressed his palms to his face, trying to tamp down the dizziness.

"Theo, I- let's talk about the Kingsnakes another time, _please,_ when I'm sober- I- look, I don't think you're worth less than my Gryffindor friends. I swear to you, I don't."

"There's a reason I helped you research the wand," he murmured. "A reason I returned Astaroth to you. It's taken me some time to realize, but I do love you."

Draco curled his fist around the talon wand, fury rising again. "Really," he hissed, "do you really, Theo? You don't even know if you're _gay-_ you're going to sleep with me a few times, and then push me away." The loop's enforced Langlock didn't let him say what he meant, drunk or not, but it was close enough, a catharsis of sorts from a pain that never left. "You barely even manage to support me- don't think I forgot that you walked right off the pitch with the others at my first Quidditch trials as captain-"

"I keep your blasted secrets, I do your research! _Astaroth,_ Draco, the _Naufragiam-_ everything! I'm not just looking for _sex,_ I don't know where you got that idea-" And since he'd been yelling, Draco let loose and yelled back.

"You weren't here!" he shouted, rage building. "Where were you when _anything_ happened- when Luna was kidnapped, when Sirius Black-"

"You can't blame me for not being there," snapped Theo. "I wasn't involved. I've been there for you, _don't_ accuse me of that. I was there when Moody forced you to give yourself the Mark, I read to you when you had magical exhaustion- and as for the Quidditch trials, that was bad planning on your part."

"But you should have stayed, to support me-"

"Maybe I should have. But I can't throw everything away to run after you. If you reject me for _Potter-_ " his lip curled- "I'll want a life to return to."

Draco knew it wasn't fair to blame red line Theo for blue line Theo not being there, but that didn't stop the emotional certainty that Theodore Nott would betray him, again. "I'm with Harry," he said, instead of the thousand other responses that sprung to mind. "Keep your life."

"That's it, then?" Theo was tense, his eyes brimming with pain. "I'm not as good as Potter, because I can't just do whatever you want- because I can't follow you around like a lovesick puppy-"

"Don't presume to comment on Harry," hissed Draco, drawing the talon wand. "Don't."

Unheeding, Theo forged on. "He can't even wipe his arse without you around, he's naught but useless baggage- for Merlin's sake, Draco, you don't even _trust_ him."

Draco expected Langlock to come out of the talon wand, but he lacked the concentration for it. Without the dams on his power tight, the impact would throw Theo back and upset Severus's herbs. So he kept it out without casting, and Theo laughed.

"He'll never understand you, not really. You're delusional, you'll always be Astaroth, Grindelwald, skulking about in shadow like Hecate- you're _dangerous,_ that's how the talon wand's made you-"

"CONJUNCTIVO!"

Theo screamed, grabbing at his blinded eyes. Draco was reminded with a pang of grim satisfaction of the sight of the Basilisk in Harry's memories, though he almost missed the streams of red coming down from those eyes.

"What is that wand going to do, Theo? Tell me! Turn me bad? Turn me into Astaroth? To Grindelwald? I'm already there! You want me to prove it?" He laughed rather hysterically as Theo went for his wand. "Manibipiscatus!" Theo's wrists snapped over his head, and Theo cried out again in alarm. "Oh, are you scared now? Have any clue who you're playing with when you try and tell me who I am, you fucking coward-"

"Expelliarmus!" a deep voice yelled, and Draco's wand flew away from him. Severus stood above the two drunken fifth-years, a foreboding figure in his long black nightshirt. He knew better than to pick up Draco's wand, which had sailed to his bare feet. He stepped over it, and went over to Theo with a frown. "Relashio," he cast, "Finite incantatem," and the invisible bonds on Theo's wrists loosened, before he turned to Draco murderously. "Draco, what is the meaning of this?"

There must have been wards to alert of magic in the storerooms, if not already the presence of someone this late. Draco tried in vain to think of an explanation that wouldn't out Theo, but-  
To Draco's everlasting shock, Theo pushed his cursed face forward, his voice gone quieter, and said, "No, sir, I provoked him. It was my fault."

"Ah, yes," Severus intoned. "And he blinded and bound you. Perfectly reasonable. Why am I surprised? Come, both of you!" He snatched up a bottle of Ocular potion from the shelf, and took Theo and Draco to his chambers before carefully applying it to Theo's eyes. He let Draco pick up his wand and pocket it on the way there, but his demeanor gave no confusion about what would await Draco should he be so foolish as to draw it.

"I'm sorry," Theo was the one to say first.

"You mean you're sorry now that you're scared of me again," Draco said coldly, and Theo shook his head, making Severus's job a little harder.

"I shouldn't have said those things about you, or your- boyfriend. Or- whatever Potter is to you. It is Potter, isn't it? The one that you... I just- I hate that you want him and not me. It just feels... Merlin, I'm so drunk..."

Severus exhaled in soft exasperation, having to listen to this conversation while treating his two foolish drunken students, so Draco leaned in to let a blind Theo whisper to him. "I shouldn't have said any of that, I'm sorry... I just... I'm in love with you, Draco, I can't help it..."

"I'm sorry, Theo," Draco said with a chest leaden with guilt. "I'm sorry I don't feel the same way. I'm sorry if I ever led you on. I..." Severus could clearly still hear, with the expression on his face unspeakably pained.

"Draco," Severus said, "Wait in the other room. I will set up another bed, and you will stay here tonight, to sleep off your disgraceful inebriation. I will assist Mr. Nott before escorting him back to his dorm."

And Severus did, taking the situation in hand. He seemed to sit and talk with Theo far longer than needed to just fix his eyes, but their conversation was muffled magically, and Draco fell asleep long before Theo left.


	2. Chapter 2

**i. Luna**

Draco woke the next morning with an awful hangover and, unfortunately, a perfectly clear memory of yesterday's events. Sev's clock declared it high noon- he'd be at lunch, now. Electing to postpone the awkward conversations he'd have to have, Draco turned away from the dungeons and the Slytherin common room, making straight for Ravenclaw Tower. He waited outside until he caught Luna returning from lunch, in hopes that she would quell the clawing feeling in his chest.

"Luna-Luna!" he cried, taking her hand. "I was bored, and I thought, who better to see than my favorite cousin-"

"There are Nargles flapping all about you," she replied. "It makes sense, I suppose. Their migratory period is..."

Draco didn't realize how on edge he'd been until he was lying down with his head in Luna's lap, listening to her commentary on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. She noticed the shift in his mood, trailing fingers through his hair, and frowned. "What's wrong, Draco? The Nargles only go away when you talk to someone about it."

"I was- drinking with Theo last night. Not like that, nothing happened, but-" He sighed. "Do you think I don't trust Harry?"

"Yes," she replied brightly. "That was an easy one!"

"Wh- Luna, why? I took him to rob Aunt Bella, didn't I?"

"You don't tell him things, though. Like our Naufragiam plan, from last year- you didn't tell him about that."

"You agreed- we were doing what was best-"

"That's not what I mean." She was unusually serious. "You don't take him seriously. He's like-" She waved her hands, as if pulling words from the air.

"To you, he's like the supporting cast in your own story, someone who's less able to make his own decisions, so he needs you to do it for him. That's why you always remind him that you do dark rituals, you're a murderer, et cetera. You don't think he has the agency to understand what you've done and choose you anyway."

"I- no, it's not that-"

"Isn't it?"

"Luna, you make me sound so self-centered."

"No, you're not!" she exclaimed. "You just see yourself as more capable. But you're empathetic, cousin, you wouldn't do anything if you didn't care."

"When did you get so clever?"

Her smile was sadder than the one Draco preferred. "Tom used to do the same thing, sometimes."

"So he had a conscience."

"I wouldn't have loved him if he didn't."

Draco was apprehensive about returning to the Slytherin dormitory, after dinner, but it was inevitable if he wanted to lock himself away in his bed-fortress again with his notebooks. Despite his worry, it turned out rather anticlimactic. Theo seemed much the same, though quieter, greeting him with a tiny nod and quickly looking away. It was certain the other boys didn't know anything. Theo in any timeline was capable of keeping secrets, if nothing else.

**ii. Hermione**

After what Luna said, Draco began to avoid Harry like the plague, an echo of the year he'd been termed the Heir of Slytherin. He caught Harry's worried glances across the Great Hall, but it felt awful, immoral somehow, to lose himself in kissing Harry when he was implicitly questioning Harry's ability to determine what was best for him.

Hermione cornered him in the library, unsurprisingly, and dragged him off to talk, despite neglecting her own OWL study. "What's going on, Frankenstein?" she demanded. "Why are you avoiding Harry _now?_ "

"I- I-" He didn't want to tell her the whole truth right now, burden her with his fear and guilt so close to the OWLs. But he had to say something, anything. "Am I a bad person, Striker? D'you think enough Gryffindor has rubbed off on me, by now- so I can fight for what's right-"

"Oh, Draco, not this again..." She took his hands in hers, squeezing tight. "You're not a bad person. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw. I don't want a Gryffindor friend, I want _you._ What prompted this?"

"Someone pointed out to me that I'm not like you, or Harry, or Ron- I'm never fighting for ideals, I only fight to defend the people I love. If I'd never become friends with you, I'd be closer to the Kingsnakes, fighting with the Death Eaters, and- where would I be then, Striker? _Who_ would I be?"

She frowned. "Did Luna say this?"

"No, it doesn't matter who."

"I don't like this," she fretted. "I wish you'd tell me who. But, Draco, as I said, you're no Gryffindor, and I wouldn't want you to be. There's no ideal that could come between us, as friends, and that's more valuable than you know. If you were fighting with the Death Eaters for your Slytherin friends, even if you didn't give a fig about the ideals, I- I'd think you were evil. I'd call you evil."

"I was so close to that," he muttered. "You've no idea, I was so close-"

"No," she declared. "You can't look to me as your moral arbiter. You have to look within yourself. If the Slytherins were the only people you loved, and you fought for their lives, would you think of yourself as evil?"

"No," he admitted, ashamedly. "Not a bit." He really hadn't, back in the blue loop, not for a moment, up until he had his wand pointed at Dumbledore.

"Then you have to accept that as a part of you. We're all a multiplicity. Remember when I stopped talking to Ron over the broomstick? It's completely against your philosophy to throw a friend over for something like rule-breaking. But it's also part of the reason I couldn't join the Death Eaters, were I born a pureblood."

Draco was a few steps behind. Hermione was cleverer than him, really, even with his additional five years of knowledge. "Are you trying to tell me that- that every view of life is equally good or bad? But- but that doesn't make any sense, if that's the case then bloody Voldemort's equal to any of us-"

" _No,_ that's not what I'm saying," she huffed. "Empathy is obviously objectively better, and I doubt he has any. What I'm saying is that you can't look to me, or Ron, or Harry, or anyone else to validate you, to declare you 'good'. You have to declare _yourself_ good, and believe it. Otherwise, any amount of approval will never be enough- because that's the nature of it, if you get validation you'll be temporarily appeased, but eventually devalue it because if it was obtainable by you, it must be valueless."

" _Merlin,_ if Harry tells me I'm a good person, I'll just discount it because if he said it about _me,_ it falls short of truth-"

"It's a game you can't win," she sighed. "It's like- like insane, self-referential arithmancy where every equation simplifies to zero equals zero."

"Merlin and Nimue," Draco groaned, massaging his temples. "I'm insane, in ways not even related to the talon wand."

"We've always known that," replied Hermione, sympathetic. "Tell yourself you're a good person. Because you are. You've done so much for Harry, Sirius, Remus, Luna, me-" She flapped her hands, encompassing the empty room. "Everyone. But the only person that can tell you that effectively is yourself."

Draco returned to the Slytherin dormitory that night uncharacteristically subdued, burrowing under his covers with _Moste Dark Blood Rituals of the Demon Goddess Hecate_. There was a knock on the outside of his curtains, and he opened them to reveal Theo, wearing a concerned expression. "I understand if you don't want to speak to me," he began quietly. "But I still want to be your friend, Draco, even if you don't have feelings for me.” Draco stared up at him, more overwhelmed than anything, remembering the comfort of that familiar sandy-blonde in bed next to him. “Are you okay?"

He was loath to admit anything to the boy who'd thrown him into such chaos, but he wanted an explanation. "Come in," he said. "Sit on the end."

Theo obeyed, sitting politely on the very end of the bed and clasping his hands in his lap. Draco shut the curtains with a spell, making their conversation private. "The things you said to me- in the storeroom-" Theo's expression didn't change, but he pressed his lips together so hard they went white. "Was it all true? Did you mean it?"

"No," he insisted, almost immediately, earnest eyes filled with melancholy. "I meant it, about my- my feelings, but I shouldn't have said a word about Potter- or tried to kiss you, I'm so sorry-"

"Not that," interrupted Draco, fingers nervously rubbing over the text of his book. "What you said about- that spending time with Gryffindors will always feel better to me, because I have a better chance of changing them than changing myself, that I'm straddling the line- do you really think that? Or were you just angry? The truth, _please,_ Theo, I need the truth."

The other boy was clearly uncomfortable, deep blue gaze tracing the creases in the cloth of Draco's duvet. "I can't believe you remember that. The truth. Are you sure? Just because I say something- my point of view isn't-"

"The truth."

"I've thought that for a long, long time. The things you say, sometimes, Draco- the way you act- like you're concerned you're _corrupting_ the Gryffindors, like you're just an evil person enjoying a few stolen moments before they catch you. Granger must see it too, she's not stupid."

"She's never said it in the way you did."

"I said it in the cruelest possible way, and I'm sorry. If you do want to change, I believe you can. You're incredible, Draco, and you'll accomplish whatever you set your mind to."

"I ignored it, when she was saying it to me, but now- now it's stuck in my mind."

"Please, please don't overthink it. It's nothing but my point of view."

"For better or for worse," Draco murmured, "it rings uncomfortably true."

**iii. Millie**

The next person to accost Draco was Millie, who dragged him into a corner of the common room and stared him down. "I saw Theo walking off with you and a bottle of sake after the party- but you've been sad, so I waited to ask. But he's oddly quiet, now, and you're hiding down here instead of haring off after your Gryffindors, and Potter's been knocking at the portrait until the prefects send him away- so tell me, Grindelwald. What's going on?"

"Nothing happened," he sighed, a refrain he was tired of repeating. "We drank. We argued. Sev caught us. That's it."

"That's clearly not it," replied Millie, narrowing her eyes. "Look, I've known you almost all my life. I care about you. And I can tell you're downright miserable."

"OWL season?" he offered weakly.

"Please," she scoffed. "You'd get straight Os in your sleep. You're miserable, and for whatever reason, won't talk to your pet lions. Kingsnakes are here for one another, captain."

"Mills, I, I don't even know how to explain what's happening to me. I talked to Hermione, and Luna, and I feel like I'm going insane."

"Maybe you need a Slytherin approach."

"Do you think- do you think that I value the Gryffindors more than you?"

She snorted. "'Course I do! You're closer to them, there's no denying it."

"But do you think that I think you're _worth_ less?"

"I can't say I've ever thought about it."

"I value you, you know, I do. All of you who stepped up to help me with the team, even though- even though I haven't been as present, here, as I should have been."

She shook her head, eyes softening. "There is no _should,_ Grindelwald. Spend time with the Gryffindors, if it makes you happy. We'll always be your first friends, won't we? And, well-" She shrugged. "It's moronic to keep a mental accounting of how much time you spend where. Do what makes you happy."

**iv. Ron**

When they landed, they were laughing, as usual, still high from the chase. "Of course you caught the bloody snitch," Ron grumbled good-naturedly. "Should've insisted on a keepers' duel."

"Next time," replied Draco, sporting the type of grin that only emerged when he flew- but it froze on his face when he spotted Harry making his way towards them. "Oh, fuck- Ron-"

"What?" He looked in the direction of Draco's gaze. "Oh, Harry- he's been looking for you everywhere. Come to think of it, you've been strangely absent from- are you okay?"

"I can't see him," whined Draco, panic rising. "I can't! Please, please will you-"

Clearly alarmed, Ron held onto Draco's shoulders. "Breathe, okay," he said. "In, out, in, out. I'll tell him to go, just- calm down, all right?"

Draco knelt on the grass, focusing on breathing in and out. Ron returned a few minutes later. "He's gone. So, care to explain why you're panicking at the thought of seeing Harry?"

"I'm not panicking-" Draco gave up, and sighed. "I'm afraid I'm with him for- for the wrong reasons," he admitted. "I'm afraid that I'm using him- for approval, or validation, or something else he's never going to be able to give me."

"Where's this coming from?"

"I love spending time with Harry, but, Merlin, sometimes it feels like _shit-_ and it's not his fault, he's so bloody good and kind and virtuous, and I'll never live up to that, I can't even try, I'm a murderer, I-" He paused, inner Hermione finally shouting loudly enough at him. _Self-referential._ It'll never be enough, unless he gives it to himself. "Sorry, no, I- that's not what I meant."

"Okay," replied Ron gently, patiently. "What do you mean?"

"He sees my- my rage, but he doesn't understand it. He thinks it's, it's okay? Positive, maybe? But I'm afraid of it, and I know Hermione is, too, she sees it, she understands..."

"Are you afraid for Harry? He can protect himself."

"No, he _can't-_ " and then Luna's words came back to him, Draco treating Harry as someone without agency, as a _child._ "Fuck, Ron, I don't know what I'm saying."

"It's all right," came the reply. "If I lived your life, I'd say crazy things all the time." The redhead offered him a hand up, and Draco took it and stood.

"Do me a favor and don't mention this to anyone."

"It's forgotten."

**v. Blaise**

Avoiding the Gryffindors meant that Draco's free time was spent entirely in Slytherin, now. To their credit, it only took the Kingsnakes a few days to adapt to the change, and they shifted slightly to include Draco in their day-to-day. It was still a little awkward, but he was abjectly grateful for their quiet acceptance.

He sighed, closing his Charms text. It'd been a long afternoon of memorizing all the trivia he'd forgotten since his first OWLs, and Draco was ready to sit in front of the fire and let his mind go blank- so he did exactly that. Blaise joined him, some time later, bearing a pack of exploding snap cards.

"Up for a game?" Blaise asked, already shuffling.

"Okay," replied Draco, sitting up.

They played a few games, but as the fire began to burn lower and lower, Draco began to lose focus, mind drifting.

"Knut for your thoughts?" asked Blaise, reshuffling. "We should have played for money, I keep winning."

"Sorry, I'm just distracted. You can probably guess what about."

"The reason you won't see your boyfriend, even though he's _always_ down here, looking for you?"

"He's not my-" issued the usual refrain, and then "Oh, whatever. Yes, Blaise, you've got it in one."

"Anyone could." His friend put the cards down and peered at him myopically, as if more of Draco’s secrets would emerge the harder he stared. "Is everything okay?"

"Other than my aunt?"

"Is that what you're thinking about?"

"In a way. I- I'm afraid I'm becoming more like her."

Blaise shuddered theatrically. "I doubt it, Grindelwald. For all that moniker implies, I genuinely don't believe you're very similar to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I don't ever want to love the way she does-" and that's all the Langlock was letting him say. He didn't want to love anyone the way Aunt Bella had loved him, or Mother, or the Dark Lord. She'd been so proud when he'd learned Occlumency, so delighted at his progress. She loved him as a reflection of herself, as Draco loved Harry as a reflection of who he wanted to be. 

Bellatrix loved Mother as naught but residue of their shared sisterhood, an old bond warped by who she'd become. Draco didn't want that either, didn't want to tie himself to someone or something because of an emotion from the blue loop, because of longevity or circumstance. 

And, of course, Draco _never, ever, ever_ wanted to love anyone like Bellatrix loved the Dark Lord- with an all-consuming, painful obsession, of a magnitude so great that it pushed aside everything else in her life. He didn't want to sacrifice himself to the Dark Lord this time, of course- but he didn't want to sacrifice himself to the light, either. It'd be selfish if he did- that sort of sublimated love, the adoration given by falling at someone's feet, that corrupted both the giver and the receiver irrevocably.

"Love the way she does? Does she love anyone? Maybe your mother, I suppose."

"She loves _viciously,_ " explained Draco. "It's harsh, unforgiving, fanatical." Fanatical was certainly correct- in her eyes, the Dark Lord could do no wrong.

"I can't say I've ever witnessed anything like that," replied Blaise, quietly. "And I hope I never do."

**vi. Sirius & Remus**

_Dear Sirius & Remus,_ he penned. Dear Sirius and Remus what? I'm going crazy? I'm turning into Bellatrix? I want Harry to burn me at the stake?

He shook his head to release the Nargles, and settled down to write again.

_Dear Sirius & Remus,  
I don't know how to explain what's going on, but I think I'm making a mistake. Nothing permanent, just- just emotional, and maybe it's all in my head, but I don't know how to explain it. I don't believe I'm a good person, sometimes- you know that, I think. Everyone tells me I am, all the time, but Hermione told me it won't matter until I believe it, and I think she's right. You did it, Sirius, in Azkaban. Even with the Dementors there, showing you every day what an awful person you were, you remembered you were innocent. You were good. How?_

_Draco_

He took a break, then. The letter was painfully raw, vulnerable, and he could barely stand to look at it. He wanted to rip it up into a thousand pieces, but at the same time, he wanted to send it- he wanted their reassurance, he wanted to run away- his thoughts were cacophonic, chasing one another in his head, and he sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. He'd send it. If nothing else, his current state implied he'd want someone else to help him make decisions. Signing his name at the bottom, Draco made for the owlery.

The reply arrived quickly, in less than half a day.

_Dear Draco,  
Is the OWL stress too much? Perhaps twelve subjects is a few too many- there is no shame in dropping some, if it proves overwhelming. As for the contents of your letter, you should know Padfoot and I are very worried about you. First and foremost, just because the problem is in your head, doesn't make it not real, or not permanent. I want you to feel that you can come to us with anything. Your well-being is important, Draco. And I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are a good person. But Hermione is absolutely right. If you don't tell yourself that, it won't stick. Take it from me. I spent years hating myself for having lycanthropy, years convinced I was a danger to ordinary wizards, despite everything James and Sirius said. It was only when I began to accept the wolf that I began to heal. It won't be easy, but I'm certain you're capable of it._

The writing changed, then, from Remus' tidy penmanship to Sirius' looping scrawl.

_It's me now, Draco, not your boring old professor, so start reading here. Hermione's right, obviously. So, you want to know how I did it? How I stayed sane in Azkaban? Well, I'll tell you. Moony doesn't want me to, but I will. The Dementors feed on happy memories. My innocence wasn't happy, exactly, since it was tied up in James and Lily's deaths. I couldn't feel good about it, per se. You have to remember, most people don't ever think that what they're doing is evil, not even Voldemort himself. So when you think that, you can trust in that tenet, and remember that you're not Voldemort, that you have people who love you, who'll catch you if you start to fall. Remember that. When you tell yourself you're evil, it does nothing to actually prevent that scenario. It's just a form of self-harm._

The writing changed back to Remus'.

_I hope some or all of that makes sense, Draco, and please, write back soon. We're proud of you, and will be even if you drop all of your OWLs. We love you._

_Sincerely,  
Sirius & Remus_

**vii. Severus**

Draco was a little more at ease after receiving Sirius & Remus' reply, but he wished it had been more specific. He still had no idea what to do. He knew it was his own fault, given how vague he'd been in his letter, but he couldn't bring himself to put quill to paper again. So he made for his godfather's rooms, clutching a bag of croissants.

"Uncle Sev?" he asked, edging into the room without his usual grace. "Are you busy?"

"Insolent boy," he grumbled. "Yes, I am. What do you wish to speak to me about?"

"I- I can come back later, it's kind of a long story-"

"Nonsense." Severus put down his grading and beckoned Draco to the familiar chairs by the fire, and they both sat down. Then he crossed his arms expectantly. "Well?"

Draco started from the beginning, then, and told Severus every detail, from his first kiss with Harry, to his night drinking with Theo, to everything he'd discussed with his friends (other than the more vulnerable parts of Sirius' and Remus' letter). By the end of it, his godfather was shocked.

"Firstly, Miss Granger is absolutely, objectively correct. Secondly, I admit I do not approve in the slightest of your infatuation with Potter- but my reasons for that are neither so dire nor so genuinely concerning. The views Mr. Nott shared- do you believe they’re correct?"

"Likely not in full," replied Draco. "But- but they rang true, in some ways."

"Do you truly see Potter as someone without agency? Has Miss Lovegood hit the nail on the head?"

"How can I answer that?" moaned Draco.

"Review your _actions,_ vain boy, and you will have your answer. Though, I warn you, you may not like what you see. When one compares one's self-image to one's actions-" He cut himself off abruptly. "Look to your actions, Draco."

And he did, and he remembered what Luna had said, and it was easier to deny when it came from his beloved cousin than when it came from his equally-beloved but implacable, demanding godfather. "I think," he squeaked, "Luna might have been right."

"And Mr. Nott? Was he correct in believing you're desperately trying to play the Gryffindor?"

"Not exactly," Draco hedged. "Hermione and Ron, they're my friends. I'm sure of it. But- but the reason I avoided my housemates, for so long... maybe. And Harry, I- I'm not sure."

Severus surveyed him, eyes dark, but never pitying. Thankfully, never that. "In that case, I do believe there's a non-trivial chance you may fall into your aunt's destructive patterns. Tell me clearly, Draco- do you love Potter for who he is, or for what he represents? Would you fall at his feet? Bow and scrape, if he asked you to? Could you sublimate yourself entirely to him?"

Draco looked away, into the flickering flames. He didn't want to say. He knew the answer- he could _feel_ the answer- but he didn't want to say. Saying it out loud would be the death knell for him and Harry, this he knew. Admitting it would bring it to the fore, would _force_ Draco to end things with Harry or risk insanity, risk losing himself the same way Bellatrix did. It'd be a risk he was willing to take, but for the potential effects on Harry- he wouldn't want him to be the focus of Draco's insanity, tied by his innate goodness to a raving madman for the rest of his life.

"You needn't answer me, Draco, but I highly recommend you do. If you truly feel you could be following in Bellatrix's footsteps, I implore you- _don't_ risk it."

Sev was right, Draco knew he was right, he and Hermione and Luna were all right while Draco himself had been utterly blind. He clenched his fists tight and squeezed his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to disappear. "Yes," he whispered reverently, almost a hiss. "Yes, I would fall at his feet if he asked- I'd do anything- kill anyone-"

"End it," cautioned Severus, dark eyes swirling with concern. "You must, Draco."

"I don't want to."

"I know. But you must."

"Yes."

"You know why."

"Yes."

"Will you?"

"...Yes."

"Swear it to me, here, now. I will not watch you follow your aunt into insanity."

There was a long pause, and Draco swallowed, trying not to cry. "I swear it," he said roughly. "I will."

Then Severus' arms enveloped him, in a welcome surprise, and he let himself cry into his godfather's chest.

**viii. Dobby**

After his emotionally fraught visit with Severus, Draco couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be besides ensconced in bed, but he still felt much too fragile to walk across the common room, to face his dormmates. So he visited the kitchens, and asked Dobby to have tea with him.

"Dobby is happy," he replied. "Dobby would love to have tea!"

The patient house-elf listened as Draco ranted incoherently- he knew he wasn't making any sense, but he was grateful Dobby was willing to listen. "I'm sorry," he admitted at last. "I know I'm being- self-centered- crazy-"

"No, Dobby thinks not," interjects the elf. "You is simply having a difficult time- and you is not knowing what you wants."

It was incredible, thought Draco, how he could simplify things. Because that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Draco wasn't sure what he wanted.

"Dobby knows a way to help," he continued. "Follow Dobby."

Draco acquiesced, and they picked their way through quiet hallways until Dobby let him into a room. "Feels free to comes back to kitchens when you is done," he said. "If you wants. Dobby will be sleeping, but if you call, Dobby will come."

"Thank you," replied Draco, gaze fixed on the edge of the mirror.

"Good luck." And there was a pop as the elf disapparated.

Draco approached the Mirror of Erised carefully, still from the side. The mirror of desire, back to haunt him after his failed attempt at destroying it. It'd showed him Harry, last time, and he didn't want to face it again, not ever. But here he was, and he was going to. 

He edged around it, slowly, until the glass finally caught his reflection- and there he was, his reflection-self, holding the talon wand, clearly about to lose control. Then another figure entered the scene- sandy blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and he wrapped his hands around mirror-Draco's, tilting his head to say something soothing. Mirror-Draco calmed, mollified, and the wand's shadows receded- and then he turned to Mirror-Theo, and pressed his lips to his. Draco stumbled back, horrified. Theo rescuing him from the talon wand. Theo giving him stability, an anchor- the exact opposite of what he'd done in the blue loop. Theo as his greatest desire. There was no denying it now.

He didn't return to the kitchens. He stormed through the Slytherin common room, ignoring real-Theo's concerned gaze, and locked himself inside his bed-curtains.

**ix. Draco**

Was it fair for him to judge Theo on his blue-loop actions? He'd judged the Gryffindors, chosen them as his companions on the same, but they'd come out of the blue loop smelling like roses. He'd judged Severus on the same, and made him more of a father figure than Lucius Malfoy. But his mother- he hadn't judged her on all the actions she'd taken in the blue loop. She'd stood by as Father hit him, and yes, that was unconscionable, but she'd also lied to the Dark Lord to save him. She loved him, in some form. He hadn't acknowledged Pansy's own form of bravery in the blue loop, that she told an entire castle of people to hand Harry Potter over, to save her own life. So he was, in truth, being selective. Slytherin. All his psychological manipulations, all the ways in which he lied to himself served to cover up a simple truth. What he'd seen in Erised initially, Harry Potter, the reason he gravitated towards the Gryffindors- he was a Slytherin. And he wanted to pick the winning side.

That wasn't fair to Theo, then, the boy who kept his secrets, the only person in the castle save Severus who could calm him from his wand-induced rages. The boy who was just like him, raised a Death Eater, but nothing like him, without foreknowledge of what would happen. Was it fair to blame him for trying to pick the winning side, based on his own knowledge? Was it fair to blame him for blue-loop Theo's actions, a Theo Draco hadn't been as close to until they began having sex, a Theo who'd have never agreed to talk to Mudbloods and Gryffindors, a Theo who wouldn't work so hard to help Draco. Draco confronted the uncomfortable truth, then- he'd walked into a new reality, but he was still judging everyone off the old one. Including himself.

The red line wasn't an echo of the blue line. The red line was overwriting it, day by day, and since he'd chosen the active route the very day he'd touched the talon wand, he'd have to take this new reality day by day, too. Not that he considered his information valueless, but- a butterfly flaps its wings, and there's a tornado halfway around the world. _Because_ he's different, everyone else is too- and the closer they are to him, the more likely that is. So he can't stick to the blue line as law. It's more like a- a prophecy, one of many possible threads- and the Theo thread, that may not even exist as a possibility anymore, given how different Draco was now.

Theo in the red line- his greatest crimes were his words about Harry, and his leaving Draco during the Quidditch trials. But here Draco was, musing on the easier topic of Theo. Harry- and Draco himself- were the more fraught pieces of this particular puzzle. There's no question, especially after he promised Sev- Draco will have to break it off. Because he's awful, and he can't exist alongside Harry. Because Luna was right, and he's been making decisions _for_ Harry like a- like a surrogate parent, because he can't fight for an ideal, he can only fight for _Harry,_ and if he adds love to the mix he'll end up like _Bellatrix-_ there's no other way, as much as he wants there to be one, as much as he just wishes he was _better,_ that he could stop thinking of himself as evil long enough to see Harry as an equal, not an idol, not something to be protected.

It was never going to happen, was it. Between both timelines, Draco had spent three and a half decades thinking of Harry as an idol. It would never work. Harry turned him into a- a narcissist, an overconfident, violent, fanatical person. His insanity wasn't just the talon wand.

**x. Harry**

Draco was flying by himself, this time, trying to avoid the imminent reckoning- but as luck would have it, the reckoning found him, in the form of the dark-haired boy who never failed to make his heart leap. There he stood, watching Draco from the pitch, and Draco's stomach dropped. He didn't want to fly anymore.

Guiding the broom down, he hopped off a few meters from Harry and waited, trying to suppress his nausea, his nervousness, and the sudden conviction he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Severus. "H-Harry," he eked out, once the other boy had come close enough.

"Why have you been avoiding me, Draco?" asked the mournful savior. "What have I done? Was I too aggressive- did I do something wrong? I just want to apologize-"

"You did nothing wrong," replied Draco, mouth dry. "Nothing. You're perfect."

"But why are you avoiding me? Please, Draco," he begged. "I'd do anything for you," and oh, wasn't that a dangerous proposition to make, to someone like him.

"Harry," he said. " _Harry._ I- I'm not good enough for you."

"You are! You're _perfect-_ "

"I can't lo- care for you, without the temptation to bow to you, to sit at your feet, to sublimate myself entirely- I, Harry, am I making sense? I'm tempted to devote myself to you the way Bellatrix does to Voldemort-"

"I'd never let that happen," he insisted, green eyes bright. "I'd never treat you that way."

"Don't you see?" Draco laughed hollowly. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I'd do it anyway. It's not a problem with you, Harry, it's a problem with me. I'm not strong enough to stand by your side without going down that path, I- I _can't._ I won't risk your sanity- that kind of devotion harms the receiver as much as the giver, if not more. At least the giver lives in ignorant bliss."

"I don't know what you mean! What are you even talking about? You're nothing like your aunt!"

"Obsessive love! That's what I'm fucking talking about!"

"That's what I feel for _you,_ Frankenstein," he breathed. "You've got it all backwards- I've been obsessed with you for years-"

"You don't understand!" shrieked Draco, close to tears. "You haven't seen it, so you don't understand how- how destructive it is, how fanatical and violent and it's as much a form of hatred, at that intensity- and you're claiming to have it! You, Harry Potter! No, you aren't even capable of it, you're a Gryffindor, you'd never cross your ideals, never-"

"Is that what you want?" His face twisted into anger. "You want me to give up my ideals?"

"You're not _listening!_ I'd never want that! I like you exactly how you are!"

"Then what's the bloody problem?"

Draco walked right up to Harry, grabbing him by the collar. "If I fall in love with you," he enunciated, "It will be obsessive. I will go mad. I will no longer exist. Clear enough?"

"But _why?_ "

Sudden exhaustion overtook Draco. "Ask Hermione," he mumbled, despondent. "You won't understand if I try to explain." His heart was broken, and all he wanted to do was lie in silence awhile.

Hermione was in his dorm the next day, courtesy of Theo. "You looked awful," he said. "And your cousin declared it a job for Granger, when I tried to bring her here."

"Striker, help," he whined. "Everything is awful, it's the worst..."

They locked the bed curtains and discussed Dobby, Severus, the mirror, and finally, Harry. "Merlin," began Hermione, shaken. "I see now what you meant- what you were trying to tell Harry. His rendition of the argument was hopelessly confused. You're afraid of becoming your aunt."

"Uncle Sev, he- he agreed, that I likely would, and apparently, so did the Mirror of Erised. It's, it's breaking my heart-" and the quiet sobs from last night chose that moment to reappear. Draco hid his face in Hermione's shoulder, shaking, surrounded by a curtain of bushy hair. "I just want Harry, more than anything-"

"Shh, Frankenstein, don't lie to yourself. The mirror showed you that isn't true. You'd rather have Theo holding you, wouldn't you?"

He sobbed harder.

"It's all right."

"I'm not ready, I can't-"

"We have all the time in the world. Wait until you are."

"And Harry?"

"I'll explain it so he'll understand, although I think it'll take him longer to accept it. He confessed last night, too."

"I'm sorry, I'm fucking it all up-"

"Oh, Draco..."

**xi. Theo**

The day before the wedding, Draco puts on Theo's lovely birthday gift, a black-opal necklace with enchantments. He prefers white, generally, but the dark color reminds him of his godfather. "Theo," he begins. "You gave me this opal to keep me safe, right?"

"Of course! Draco, I'd never-"

"I'm not accusing you. I just- I want to keep you safe, too. Your father was in the graveyard, during Voldemort's return."

Theo's eyes narrow, and he settles in, defensive. "Yes."

"He's nearly seventy, and you're- _we're_ so young, it- listen. Voldemort has no use for an aging wizard, except to recruit you into his ranks. And you don't _want_ to be a Death Eater, Theo, you want to write books."

"I don't want to fight. You already know that."

"So whatever happens, keep your father away from the Dark Lord. At any cost, Theo. _Any cost._ Because if he goes, you're next, and I don't want that to happen."

"What would you have me do, when the mark burns? Petrify him? Stun him?"

"Do whatever you have to," replies Draco grimly. "For your life, and for his."

"Merlin," he breathes, eyes troubled. "We're really at war now, aren't we?"

"It's happening _now,_ " cautions Draco, remembering his own actions in the blue line. "Right now. And if you don't get out soon, you'll never be able to. Soon meaning, tomorrow. Aunt Bella is coming for me, and she’ll probably have the Death Eaters behind her."

"What if _he_ comes after us?"

"That's your advantage. You've no relatives other than your father in England, nobody you care about- so use the Fidelius, _hide._ And for the sake of all that is holy, _don't_ make your father the secret-keeper."

"I care about _you._ "

"The Dark Lord already hates me," replies Draco flippantly. "And he hasn't caught me yet."

"Look, my father-" Theo shifts uncomfortably. "He's been a Death Eater all his life. I don't want to take that away from him."

"You'll just have to choose. A few more years of tarnished glory for him, if even that, or _the rest of your life,_ Theo. Figure it out," Draco demands, "or the Dark Lord will do it for you."

Theo's bed is empty when he leaves for the wedding the next morning.


End file.
